Chapter 11 — One Hundred and Twenty Wasn't Enough

CHAPTER 11

One Hundred and Twenty Wasn't Enough

“Don't touch the water,” Deng Hu said.

Shi Feng stopped with his waterskin open.

The old hunter sat on the ruined watercourse wall, holding a fishing line. Below him, green water ran slowly between stone channels.

“Poison?” Shi Feng asked.

“Bitter,” Deng Hu replied. “You'll curse for half a day.”

“You're fishing in it,” Shi Feng said.

“I don't drink fish,” Deng Hu replied.

Shi Feng put away the waterskin.

Two days of hunting restored one hundred and twenty-one meridians. That was already enough for an ordinary cultivator to attempt Qi Condensation.

He could stop here.

Leave the marsh, find a quiet room, and gather qi with a body stronger than most youths in Qingshi Town. Shi Feng looked at his hand and closed it slowly.

No.

He once opened three hundred and sixty-five. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his life pretending one hundred and twenty was good enough.

“You're waiting for the deer?” Deng Hu asked.

“Yes,” Shi Feng replied.

The old hunter began winding in his line.

“You're leaving?” Shi Feng asked.

“My eyes aren't that good,” Deng Hu said.

He went away without looking back.

Shi Feng climbed onto the narrow ridge beside the watercourse. Broken stone channels ran down the slope, crossing above a shallow pit. The whole place was once part of an irrigation works.

Now weeds grew between the stones, and a long red smear marked one wall.

The deer used this path.

He checked the spear assembled from Chai Jin's shaft and his own old head. The binding held. Beside the pit, he laid the crossbow behind a stone block.

Then he waited.

Two herb pickers passed below the ridge. One carried a broken bucket. The other was complaining about losing his shoes in the mud.

“Are you hunting?” Tu An asked, stopping with his bare feet in the mud.

“Yes,” Shi Feng replied.

“Alone?” Tu An asked.

“Do you want to join me?” Shi Feng asked.

“What beast?” Tu An asked.

“Blood-Crowned Spirit Deer,” Shi Feng replied.

Tu An seized his companion’s sleeve.

“We’re picking mushrooms!” Tu An said. “Very small mushrooms!”

The second man tried to recover his bucket. Tu An dragged him away without it. The two men looked at his bandaged ribs and hurried away.

Shi Feng didn't blame them. He wouldn't join a stranger's hunt without knowing what they were hunting either.

He settled behind the broken wall and checked the wind. It blew towards him from the drinking pool. Good. The deer wouldn't smell him before arriving.

The Blood-Crowned Spirit Deer came at sunset.

Its antlers were red from base to tip. Pale markings glowed along its chest, and one rear leg dragged slightly behind it.

Shi Feng stopped breathing for a moment.

Even wounded, it carried more qi than any beast he killed before. If it struck him once, the hunt would end there.

The deer lowered its head to drink.

Shi Feng lifted the crossbow.

The bolt struck beneath its broken leg.

The deer screamed and turned. Its red antlers shone, and a stone beside the water exploded beneath one hoof.

Shi Feng dropped the crossbow and ran.

Behind him came a heavy crash.

The deer leapt onto the ridge instead of taking the narrow path.

Too fast!

Shi Feng threw himself behind a thick stone pillar. Antlers struck the other side, breaking off a chunk larger than his head.

Dust covered his robe.

His plan was simple. The broken rear leg would limit the beast's turn. He wanted it charging along the narrow ridge, where his spear waited below.

Unfortunately, nobody explained the plan to the deer. It tore the pillar free from the soil. Shi Feng rolled beneath its rising neck and slashed at the wounded leg with Ma Liang's knife.

The blade cut deep.

A hoof struck his shoulder.

He flew into a shallow channel and slammed against the stone edge. Pain burst through his arm. He almost dropped the knife.

The deer limped after him, snorting blood and foam.

“Come on, then,” Shi Feng said through clenched teeth.

He scrambled backwards along the channel. Its walls forced the beast to lower its antlers before it could enter.

The sharp points scraped towards his chest.

Shi Feng caught a low stone bar and hauled himself over the side.

The deer thrust its head forward.

Its antlers wedged beneath the bar.

Shi Feng landed on the ridge, seized the waiting spear, and drove the point down towards its neck. The first thrust pierced the hide but slipped against a glowing marking.

Qi protected the beast's body!

He pulled the spear free before its struggles snapped the shaft.

The stone bar cracked.

Shi Feng changed his grip and thrust again, this time behind the ear where no pale marking covered the skin.

The point sank half its length.

The deer screamed and twisted.

The bar broke apart.

Shi Feng couldn't pull the spear free. He let go and jumped back as the antlers swept over the ridge. One point caught his belt and ripped it open.

His father's compass fell into the mud.

The deer stumbled into the pit, dragging the spear behind it. Blood spread beneath its head.

It was wounded badly.

It wasn't dead.

Shi Feng stood above it, breathing hard. His right shoulder throbbed. His fingers barely held the knife.

He could leave now and let the wound finish it. But another beast might find it first, and then his strange physique might give him nothing.

He waited until the deer's next charge failed. Its broken leg folded beneath it. Shi Feng jumped into the pit behind its shoulder.

The beast tried to turn.

He caught the spear shaft, pushed with his uninjured arm, and drove the point deeper behind its ear.

The red light faded from its antlers.

Its body struck the ground.

This time, it didn't rise.

Shi Feng backed away until he reached the wall. His knees bent, and he sat down hard. His hands shook now that the fight was over.

The first plan failed when the deer jumped. The second worked because the narrow channel trapped its antlers for two breaths. Without that stone bar, he'd be the body lying in the pit.

“Next time, I'll choose somewhere with a lower wall,” Shi Feng muttered.

He laughed at himself, then stopped when his ribs hurt.

“You really did it?” Deng Hu called from the hill.

Shi Feng looked up sharply.

The old hunter kept a respectable distance from the pit. His empty basket hung from one hand.

“You came back for the antlers,” Shi Feng said.

“I came back to see if you needed help,” Deng Hu replied.

Shi Feng looked at the basket.

“Burying a man takes a shovel,” Shi Feng said.

Deng Hu coughed.

Shi Feng named a price for the antlers. Deng Hu complained once, then hurried down the hill when Shi Feng started cutting them himself.

The deal was settled in six sentences.

Deng Hu took out a knife and started cutting. Before leaving, he tossed down a small waterskin.

“Don't drink from the channel,” Deng Hu said.

“How much?” Shi Feng asked.

“It's included,” Deng Hu replied. “Don't say I cheated you when I sell the antlers for more.”

“I won't ask,” Shi Feng said.

After the old hunter left, Shi Feng touched the deer's flank.

Fierce vitality surged through his palm.

One hundred and twenty-one meridians trembled. More silent routes stirred beyond them, answering a pressure far stronger than the crocodiles could give him.

Shi Feng's heart pounded with joy.

He stopped the flow before it overwhelmed him and sat down to steady his breathing. His wound needed binding. The corpse needed moving into cover.

Most of all, he needed somewhere nobody would disturb him. In the mud beside the broken bar, his father's compass lay open. Shi Feng picked it up and wiped it clean.

The needle still pointed south.

“Good,” Shi Feng said quietly. “We haven't finished yet.”

He closed the lid and tucked it safely beneath his robe. Then he reached for the rope.